


The Belt Buckle

by anemic_cinema



Series: World's End Boyfriend [1]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Misogyny, Pre-Slash, Racism, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/pseuds/anemic_cinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: No queers after the zombie apocalypse? I don't think so. In this series, multiple characters are made textually queer, and the timeline presented in the show is altered. The focus is Daryl and Glenn's growing relationship. </p><p>Merle's behavior towards others makes Daryl's life difficult, and forces him to take matters into his own hands. TW: Racism, misogyny</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Belt Buckle

“Take that shit off or I swear to god...” 

“I'd like to see you make me, asshole.”

Daryl had figured that during the time he was away hunting for game for the camp, Merle would get up to some trouble. Merle Dixon was the kind of man who's principal pleasures were getting under peoples skins, doing drugs, fucking underage girls, and getting into fights. While his drug intake had slowed down (it's hard to find a dealer during a zombie apocalypse) and since there were no underage girls around except Sophia and Eliza (and even Merle didn't like them that young) that left getting on the last goddamn nerve of everyone in the camp and trying to get them to fight him. 

Merle took his greatest pleasure in antagonizing T-Dog, Jacqui, Morales, and Glenn, which didn't surprise Daryl. His brother was a confirmed racist who had made fast friends with various nazis and other white supremacists during his multiple stints in juvenile detention and prison. This was a man who embraced the stereotype of the racist southerner whole hog. As for Daryl...well... he had never stood up to his brother, and saw no harm in going along with his behavior. To tell the truth, Daryl was just as bad as his brother, perhaps worse, because he was racist not because of ideology, but because Merle was, and he always followed Merle's example. 

“Merle, I'm telling you take that damn buckle off or I'm gonna...”

“Whatcha gonna do, boy? You a big gangsta badass, why don't you put your money where your fuckin' mouth is?”

T-Dog was staring Merle down when Daryl walked into the edge of camp. Jacqui was standing by the fire, looking angrier than Daryl had ever seen her. Glenn was there too, trying desperately to get between the two men, to calm them down so they wouldn't start brawling. It wasn't going too well.

“Guys, c'mon this is stupid, if Shane sees you guys acting dumb he's gonna...”

“Shut the fuck up, you ain't in this conversation.” 

Merle shoved Glenn aside, almost knocking him to the ground, and got up nose to nose with T-Dog. Jacqui grabbed Glenn, steadying him, and turned to the arguing men.

“Dammit Merle, you need to quit it!”

“No one's talking to you, bitch!”

That only provoked T-Dog further. He was not one to let anyone talk to a woman like that, especially not if it was Jacqui. He had always been protective of Black women, and was not going to hesitate taking the redneck down several pegs for it.

“Merle, you better think long and hard about what you say next, 'cause I will fuckin' bust you in your hillbilly mouth for talking to Jacqui like that!”

“Fuck you. And I ain't taking my goddamn belt buckle off. I ain't ashamed of being white or southern, so you can just go fuck yo black ass, and hers too!” 

The last words he spoke with an exaggerated Black accent, and T-Dog's nostrils flared. His fists were clenched and he was ready to deliver a well deserved beat down to Merle when Shane grabbed the white man by the collar, and pulled him to the ground.

“Merle! Knock. It. OFF!” 

While Merle was no slouch in the physical department, Shane was in much better shape and had actual training in handling people like him. People who only responded to demonstrations of physical violence. Shane had Merle's arms pulled back, his knee pinned to the bigger man's lower back, and was holding his head face down into the dirt.

“You're gonna knock off this happy horseshit or I'm gonna knock you the fuck out, got it asshole?”

Merle was in no position to argue and nodded his head as best he could, considering Shane had a death grip on it. 

“Good, now I'm gonna let you go and you're gonna take your sorry ass back to your tent. If you try to pull this shit again, I'm gonna personally hoist you out of camp and leave you for the walkers!”

Shane let him go. By this time, everyone in the camp had crowded around and were staring at the ugly scene. Daryl stared down at the ground, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. He could tell they were all staring at him with as much disgust and contempt as they had for his brother. He could feel their eyes on him, and knew exactly what they were thinking. They were thinking about how it was all Daryl's fault for leaving Merle by himself so he could get up to trouble. How pathetic he was, how ugly his behavior was, and what a useless piece of shit he was. How you can't expect anything better from backwoods white trash like those Dixon brothers. He shifted the brace of squirrels he had caught that morning from one shoulder to the other, and walked towards Merle, resolutely avoiding looking at anyone else. Merle was now sitting up, puffing and red faced, but looking pleased with himself. 

“C'mon Merle, I need help skinnin' these squirrels.” Daryl mumbled, extending a hand so Merle could get up on his feet. His brother looked at him, scoffed, and knocked his hand aside with derision. He hauled himself up and started towards his tent, chuckling to himself, making a big show of just how unaffected he was by Shane's threats. Daryl followed, but glanced up for a second to look at the others. Jacqui was talking softly to T-Dog, trying to calm him down. His face was still contorted with rage. Glenn was standing by them, and looked over at Daryl. Their eyes met for a second, before Daryl turned away, embarrassed about the whole scene. He hoped that the meat he had brought back would smooth things over temporarily. 

*******

 

“What the fuck was that all 'bout anyways?” 

They'd been at work skinning and cleaning squirrels for an hour. Well, Daryl had been at work, Merle was mostly laying around and “supervising.” When his brother asked him that question, he chuckled.

“That uppity motherfucker got his panties in a bunch when he saw my belt buckle. Don't that beat all. Lemme tell ya, those people are just too goddamn sensitive.”

Daryl looked at the item in question. It was one of those clip on belt buckles, and it had the confederate battle flag on it in bright enameled colors. Merle had found it shortly before they had thrown in their lot with the rest of the group, and Daryl knew for a fact that he wore it to piss people off. Merle always talked a lot of shit about “Southern Pride.” At this point, Daryl couldn't care less about that bullshit. He didn't see what was left to be proud of. Nothing but whole lot of dead people and walkers. History and all of that didn't seem to matter much now. He sighed and kept on working as Merle went on and on about the others in the camp, how one of these days he was gonna show Shane who was boss, etc. There's wasn't much point in trying to converse with him when he got ranting, so Daryl just nodded along, occasionally making approving noises. 

He wished that Merle could turn down his jackass behavior though, considering they were relatively safe sticking with the others. Daryl had no desire to go back to being on the run with his brother, constantly having to fight for survival. At the camp it was calm. He could hunt, do his own thing, and still benefit from the protection of the others. It struck him that Shane would not hesitate to make good on his threats, and if Merle left, he'd have to follow. Considering that his brother was not one to back down, it was up to Daryl to figure something out before shit got out of hand.

*******

 

The moon was full that night, and was so bright even in the brush you could see where you were going. Daryl was sneaking down to the quarry, keeping one ear out for walkers, and the other for anyone from the camp. He had no desire to call attention to what he was doing. He had the belt buckle in his hand, which he had taken from Merle tent after he had passed out. His brother had dug into his stash of drugs he kept for “special occasions,” had taken a couple of oxycontins, and passed right the fuck out. Daryl knew from experience that there was no way Merle would wake up after taking them, so he sneaked into his tent, snatched up the offending item, and was now making his way down to the bottom of the quarry. The water there was so calm he could see the reflection of the moon on it's surface. He paused to look at the sight. It soothed him. He had always felt more at home alone in nature than around people. Interacting with others made him feel uncomfortable, and, though he would never admit it, afraid. Afraid of their judgments, afraid of fucking up, and he had learned at an early age that if you fucked up, you get your ass beat for it. It didn't matter if it was your fault or not, you couldn't expect mercy or kindness from others. 

Forcing himself out of his reverie, he wound up and pitched the buckle into the water. It landed in the mineral-milky water with a satisfying “plop” and sent out ripples across the surface. He watched until the ripples died down, and started back towards his tent. Halfway up the hill, he heard footsteps. He tensed and reached for his hunting knife. He could make out a silhouette coming towards him...it wasn't a walker. He relaxed slightly, but walked quicker. He didn't feel like talking to anyone. The shape waved and called out. “Hey! Couldn't sleep either?” It was Glenn. He was always so goddamn nice to everyone it made Daryl want to puke. Sure he was good at scouting out places and bringing back useful stuff, but Jesus. The way he went out of his way to please people and be nice to them was pathetic. It made him angry. Like the kid was a spoiled little motherfucker who never had to go through shit, so he could afford to trust others. Daryl glared at him as he went by, not saying a word. 

Glenn was crestfallen as the older man stormed past him “Jeez, don't say hello.” He shook his head, ambling along the path to the quarry. It was such a beautiful night he figured a quick stroll would temporarily clear his head from the horror of everything around him, and maybe help him get to sleep. “I wonder what he was up to down there,” he mused aloud. 

*******

 

“WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?!” 

Daryl looked up from his bowl of oatmeal. Merle was striding over, and for a second he thought that he had figured out that he took his belt buckle and was gonna knock him out. Instead, his brother walked past him to where T-Dog was sitting. Shane was sitting by the campfire, and started to stand when he saw Merle coming, ready to bust his skull open if he had to. Lori had been in the middle of dishing out breakfast for Carl, but froze when she heard Merle yelling. 

“ I asked you a goddamn question, where the fuck is it?!”

“What the hell are you talking about you crazy cracker?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN ASSHOLE! My goddamn belt buckle, what the fuck did you do with it you fuckin' ni-”

Merle was about to start swinging when Daryl caught his arm.

“Calm the fuck down Merle, okay? You got up last night to go take a piss and when you got  
back it wasn't on your belt no more.”

“Why the fuck don't I remember it then?”

Daryl sighed, rolled his eyes, and pulled Merle closer so not everyone would hear.

“'Cause you were pilled out, fuck! Now calm down, you don't need Shane on your ass.”

Merle stopped, clearly not remembering getting up to take a piss, but remembering taking some pills to chill out. He also saw that Shane was looking ready to kick his ass at the slightest excuse. He shoved Daryl away and stomped back to his tent. T-Dog stared at the fuming man retreating, too confused to be angry. 

“Your brother's got some real problems, man.”

Daryl shot him a poisonous look. He didn't like Merle most of the time, but he was still his brother. He grabbed his breakfast and stalked off to eat it by himself. He'd had his fill of human interaction for the day. Glenn was walking up to the communal breakfast pot as he left. “'Mornin' Da-” Daryl cut him off with a raised middle finger, making it very clear that it was not a good morning. Glenn looked over to the rest of the group. Lori was busying herself taking care of Carl, Shane shrugged and shook his head, and T-Dog was looking just plain confused. 

“Do I even want to know?”

T-Dog made a disgusted noise “Man, Merle's fuckin' crazy. He got in my face 'cause he thought I'd stolen his precious racist belt buckle. Daryl calmed his stupid ass down though.”

Glenn got a puzzled look on his face, but said nothing. As he ate, in his mind events clicked together to form a possible explanation for what had just happened.


End file.
